Versuri Celtic Frost - Sorrows Of The Moon

This evening the moon dreams more lazilyAs some fair woman, lost in cushions deepWith gentle hand caresses
listlesslyThe contour of her breasts before she sleepsOn velvet backs of avalanches softShe often lies enraptured as she
diesAnd gazes on white visions aloftWhich like a blossoming to heaven riseWhen sometimes on this globe, in indolenceShe
lets a secret tear drop down, by chanceA poet, set against oblivionTakes in his hand this pale and furtive tearThis opal drop
where rainbow hues appearAnd hides it in his breast far from the sun